


Mademoiselle Hyde

by somnologic



Series: Limerence [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Erik's not the only possessive one, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealous Christine, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Loving but confused Erik, Oral Sex, Possessive Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, modern! AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnologic/pseuds/somnologic
Summary: "She thought she knew what anger, jealousy, hate was but looking at the woman lounging in front of Erik she felt a maelstrom within her unmatched by anything she could remember. He was hers, goddamn it."Christine reminds both of them exactly where Erik belongs: in her bed and in her heart.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: Limerence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775788
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Mademoiselle Hyde

Christine was drowning.

She thought she knew what anger, jealousy, _hate_ was but looking at the woman lounging in front of Erik she felt a maelstrom within her unmatched by anything she could remember. It didn't matter that Erik seemed entirely unmoved or that she hadn't actually touched him. He was _hers_ , goddamn it.

 _He kissed you not even 10 minutes ago_ , she chided herself, but it didn't matter.

In this elegant, intimidating room, surrounded by items whose price would probably have shocked her, and occupied by the impossibly striking dominatrix and her own immaculately dressed lover, Christine felt all too grubby. On display, like an open book as opposed to the many masks (literal and metaphorical) that the other two were armed with. Most of all, she felt small, the odd one out against the striking contrast of dark and light created by the two before her.

Irene Adler made eye contact with her over Erik's shoulder, just for a second, before refocusing on him. Almost casually, her arm flicked off an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulders, her lips lifting slightly at the corner. No, she wasn't drowning - Christine was on fire now as waves of heat ran up and down her body.

 _Focus_. They were there, Erik had said, because Irene was a hub of information rivaling some of the smaller spy agencies. There had been increased chatter about leads on the search for the assassin Phantom and Erik wanted to see how much fire lay behind the smoke. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - Christine was generally in favor of any strategic move that didn't require him to break into a secure government facility or commit a crime. She was now rethinking that devil's bargain.

\---

Three hours, and a tense plane and car ride later, they were back in their home. Erik was clearly distracted, mulling over what Irene had told them. Meanwhile, Christine was torn between being glad that at least the trip achieved its purpose or being further annoyed that "The Woman", as she was professionally known, could help him in a way that she couldn't.

 _Should have gone for that degree in spy-craft instead of music and dance, my girl_ , she thought ruefully.

As soon as they were through the door, Erik headed off to his study with nary a glance back, long strides silent across the floor. Christine knew she could join him; she was almost always welcome there to read or work in companionable silence. Today though, she was way too agitated to not be a distraction and in too fey a mood to have a proper discussion.

She also knew the words that she should say, craved the reassurance it would bring from him, but something made them stick in her throat. Pride, perhaps, or was it self-preservation?

Sticks and stones, the adage went, but it said nothing of artful glances, overly familiar touches and lipstick as red as blood. In different circumstances, Christine might have fantasized about kissing those lips herself. As it stood now, all she could do was rerun the last image of those luscious lips leaning in to whisper, "Don't worry sweetheart, if I wanted, by now I could have had him kneeling in front of me begging for mercy. Twice." A smirk, and then, "I leave him in your _capable_ hands."

Seemingly kind words delivered with unkind gleaming eyes, Irene Adler was gone.

Well her dad always said, when words fail, one should turn to music. The problem was, she wasn't sure she could sing past the lump in her throat or play with her shaky hands. Actions would have to do the speaking for her.

Reading on her phone now, Christine headed off in the opposite direction from the study, a woman on a mission.

\---

Hours later, Christine sat on the bed waiting, uncharacteristically quiet in the dimly lit room. From the sounds in the adjoining bathroom she knew that Erik would be joining her soon and so she kept her eye on the door.

As always, Erik sought her out as soon as he entered, eyes widening slightly. She knew why - the darkened room and the fact that she was still in jeans and a blouse were anomalies - but still she savored his surprise. He himself was wearing silk pajama top she had given him along with his ridiculously expensive boxer briefs.

On another night, she might have been touched by seeing him in her gift but not tonight. Taking in the lean form on display now, she felt only the thrum of desire in her spine.

"Christine? Is everything ok?"

 _No._ She went to him now, cupping his beautiful, oh-so-familiar unmasked face in both hands and looked intently into his eyes. "Kneel."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Kneel for me, Erik."

Confusedly, he sank to the floor. Before he could ask another question, she grabbed his hair none-too-gently in one hand and tilted his face up. "What is your safeword?"

"Safeword?" His mouth was now gaping slightly.

She wanted to keep him off-balance. Feeling cruel, she picked a name he would never invoke in the bedroom under ordinary circumstances. "Your safe word is Phantom. Do you understand?"

Eyes darkening now, whether in anger or desire, he nodded.

"And do you consent to be mine for tonight?"

"Consent to what exactly?" Despite his obvious surprise, his voice was as rich and sonorous as ever.

"Does it matter?" She challenged, running a thumb over his lower lip with her free hand.

Exhaling through his mouth, Erik closed his eyes. "Not really - I'm yours, to do with as you wish."

Perhaps he expected her to soften at his words, but Christine found them only feeding the high that was building within her. She tightened her grip in hair, and leaned in to whisper at his ear, "Good."

Amused at his answering shiver, she ghosted a kiss on his lips that he tried to chase, before sitting back on the bed.

God, but the sight of him in front of her was distracting, as he subtly spread his thighs, eyes boring into hers. She was clearly not the only one trying to gain the upper-hand. Well, if he wanted to be on display, she would put him on display. "Take off your shirt."

A pause, and then, "Is music not a traditional accompaniment for this?"

_Infuriating man._

Christine raised an eyebrow and countered in an arch tone. "Stripping songs are not well-represented in my repertoire, my love. Perhaps my teacher can rectify that at a later point?"

Conceding the point wordlessly, Erik shrugged off the button-down pajama top with his typical efficiency. When he looked up again, his nostrils flared at the sight of her sitting with her own jeans unbuttoned and hands down her pants.

She smiled beatifically. "Those boxer-briefs, as lovely and form fitting as they are, have to go too."

The air in the room changed as he settled back into position, now completely nude. She let her gaze drift over the flex of his powerful thighs, the angular beauty of his collarbone, the tall pale line of his neck. Almost against her will, she found herself drawn down to him, leaning in to lick at the base of his jaw as her hand brushed down to stroke his hardening erection. But when his hands came up to brush her side, she pulled away again. "Uh uh uh, you're going to need to apply some of your endless self-restraint tonight, my love. Hands behind your back please."

Again, she was met with only silence as he complied, although his eyes gave away his frustration. Perhaps he was waiting to see what she would do…she would surprise him yet, she vowed.

Christine nudged his knees further apart, a hand on his shoulder for balance even as she pushed him down more firmly on his heels. Straddling him, she tugged at his hair again and pulled him into a bruising kiss. She swallowed his groan and delved deeper, harder, controlling every change in angle, until mutual need for air made her break off. She replaced her lips with fingers, still wet with her own juices and groaned when he sucked at them like they were the finest Parisian candy. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to drive her mad, and she found herself suppressing love and aggravation equally.

Instead, she dove in again towards his lips, with the desperation of an addict, as her hand snaked down between them to stroke him, tongue thrusting in time with her hand. Capricious and merciless, she pulled away just as he was adjusting to the harsh rhythm she'd set. His frantic eyes watched her lift her fingers away and he bucked up when she licked at the accumulated precum. _How prettily he panted with those reddened lips._

Feeling wanton and powerful, Christine stood up and pulled his head close, letting him mouth at the skin revealed at her hips. Her jeans felt too heavy now, fabric scratchy against her over sensitized skin.

"I want to _feel_ you - take off my clothes." Seeing the question in his eyes, she continued, "without using your hands."

The gauntlet had been thrown but he was clearly game for it. Using his teeth, he caught her belt loops and started sliding her pants down her hips. He made good progress at first, but as her pants reached the widest part of her hips, he started to get irritated, having to switch sides frequently thanks to the lack of give in the fabric. Frustration and humiliation radiated off of him as he finally got her jeans to collapse in a pool around her ankles.

She might have been more sympathetic, if not for the sight of his erection, flushed red and ramrod straight against his belly.

Thankfully, the thin material of her underwear posed very little challenge. Finally, he used his teeth to pull at the waist tie of the wrap blouse she had intentionally worn, the silky material muffling his soft moan when he realized she wore nothing underneath.

Pleased, she smirked down at him. "I'm impressed. Let's see if we can't put that talented mouth to further use, hmm?"

For a moment, she was torn between opposing temptation, but concern for the state of his knees made the decision easy. "Get on the bed," she indicated with a head tilt, not even looking as she went to retrieve a couple of items from the nightstand drawer.

When Christine turned back, he was settled in the center of the bed, long limbs languid and eyes watchful. Well if he was getting too relaxed, she knew just how to rile him up. "Hands above your head and clutching the headboard please".

She joined him on the mattress, carefully adjusting the angle of his arms until he looked comfortable and then held up his favorite bow tie. He now stared incredulously as she wound it around his hands and then anchored them to the wrought iron with a simple but strong knot. "Christine, that's from Savile Row, which seems like sartorial overkill and frankly, there's no way that would hold me."

She smirked again, "I'm very aware of your skills darling. The point of this is not to hold you against your will. It’s that you can't get out _by accident_. And if you don't want to damage your precious tie, I suggest you don't struggle."

Those last words were followed by a strong nip to the curve of his neck, causing him to jerk against the binding. "Like that," she finished smugly.

The heady sensation of having him at her mercy sang through her veins. She made her way down his torso with the appetite of a starving man at a feast. She licked, sucked, and nipped every inch of available skin, smooth and scarred, drinking in not just the taste and scent of him but his sighs and moans. She let her breasts mash against his chest, rubbing her nipples against his skin in both exquisite delight and torture.

By the time she had made it down to the V of his groin, he was panting again, wordless, knees bent as feet dug into the mattress. She licked a long stripe up his cock, thrilling in how it jerked in response. God, how she wanted him.

She tried valiantly to ignore the heat pooling between her legs, to suppress how every inch of her ached for his touch. Instead, she refocused on him, gently taking only the tip of his cock into her mouth, while avoiding the spot where she knew he was the most sensitive. She boldly alternated using her tongue and her teeth, focused on drawing out his pleasure. Erik cried out in response, arching in a fruitless attempt to drive himself deeper, and then finally words broke through, "Christine, oh fuck - please, _please!_ "

Darkly smiling, she lifted up to make eye contact with him. "That's once."

Before he could ask for clarification, she grabbed one of the other items she had brought and slipped it on him: a novelty cock ring that had shipped with one of their body "massage oils", so far entirely unused. Distracted as he was by her touch, it took Erik a few seconds to realize what she had done.

"Jesus fuck!" A full body shudder and a sharp pull at his wrists accompanied his exclamation.

Her eyes drank in the sight of him, stretched out, bound and entirely under her thumb. His usually neat hair was all over the place, his chest was flushed, and his breath came in gasps. Some small, wicked part of her exulted in seeing him so undone, but the proverbial devil on her shoulder whispered, _you need more_.

She straddled his lean stomach, gently rocking as his abdominal muscles shifted underneath her and let him feel how hot and wet she was for him. The same wounded part of her was delighted by how intently he watched her hands as she massaged and pinched her nipples, and then drifted down her body, as her fingers finally met at the boundary of his flesh and hers where she ached most. "Christine- "

She cut his words off abruptly by shoving in two soaked fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, knowing that he would lick and suck, chasing every bit of her unique taste.

She couldn't wait any longer.

"Such a dirty mouth", she whispered, as she reached back for her used underwear and pressed it into his hand. Tilting his chin, she looked into his eyes to whisper huskily "I _need_ your perfect mouth on me, so badly." Kissing him lightly, she murmured against his lips, "If you want to stop at any time, drop the panties."

Perhaps he recognized some remaining doubt in her eyes, because Erik pushed his chin out and licked his lips in clear acquiescence. She needed no further invitation to give in and sink down on him, thighs cradling his face.

Most other times they had done this, he had practically cajoled her into it, since she was always slightly afraid that it would be unpleasant or awkward for him as he hovered between her legs. Today, in this new position, she felt only wonderfully free, powerful, burning like a lick of flame as she gently moved above him.

She had him exactly where she wanted him.

Without even knowing what she was saying, she rambled in pleasure, hands gripping his hair and the headboard in equal measure. "God Erik --ugh-- that's so good, so fucking good. You have no idea --ungh-- I just want to keep you down there all day, every day –aah!-- you're mine, all mine – keep you underneath my desk at my study, just like this --yes-- so good for me-"

Clearly, he was also affected, his movements speeding up and his groans vibrating through her. She fell apart finally at a gentle but well-placed nip, movements now erratic as the rest of her body went taut.

Thighs trembling, she had just enough presence of mind to shift sideways, collapsing half on him and half on the bed, struggling to get her breath back.

When she did, she half-expected him to be watching her smugly – after all he had just given her the most mind-blowing orgasm she could remember. But he was staring up at the ceiling, as if he was dazed, licking his lips and panting.

Worried now, she surged up to pull his mouth in a kiss, tasting herself on his lips, alternating gentle and searing pressure. When she pulled back, he was focusing on her again and she smiled. "I think you've earned a reward, don't you?"

Not waiting for his answer, Christine headed back down to where his neglected erection awaited her, heavy and flushed red. _Like a particularly obscene lollipop_ , she thought before internally rolling her eyes at the cliché. She wrapped her hands and mouth around his cock, eager to reciprocate the pleasure he had brought her. She bobbed up and down, lips occasionally meeting the silicone ring at the base when she engulfed him fully. She felt almost drugged in her urgency, throwing out every concern about how she might look and focusing only the heat of his body, the salt of his precum, the musky scent rising from his groin, the lewd shine of her saliva when she pulled off, and the wordless mewls he emitted when she went back in.

She absorbed every grunt, every moan like music to her ears until she felt him tightening and pulled away instantly. His strangled howl was the loudest yet, with a full body jerk that shifted the mattress.

Unrepentant and playful, she gently swatted him on his penis and his hips jerked again, lifting bodily up from the bed. "Ah! Please, I can't, _please_ touch me, anything, I love you, _please,_ " he begged, almost sobbing.

Christine felt part of the crack within her finally heal. Gentle now, she moved up to meet his crazed eyes, soothing his reddened lips with a soft kiss. Nuzzling his face and neck affectionately, she whispered, "That's twice, darling, and I love you too."

She reached down, and then rethought. Caressing his cheek, she queried, "I'm a greedy woman, and I want us to finish together with you inside me. Do you think you can come if we leave the ring on?" It _was_ only supposed to delay orgasm, not prevent it.

Seemingly beyond words, Erik nodded, eyes burning but never leaving hers.

Christine sank down upon him, slowly but surely, until he was buried to the hilt, drawing out breathy moans from both of them. _Fuck. Yes._

She set a steady pace, letting her long curly hair create a curtain around them, eventually pressing her forehead to his. Hands roaming all over his head and chest, she sped up, delighting in watching the pleasure crest in his eyes, hot breath from his gasps against her cheek, tendons in his neck jutting out. Like the string on a violin pushed beyond its limit, his body vibrated and tightened until he came, explosively, wordlessly, biting down at the side of her neck and dragging her along with him.

It was many seconds before either of them could move. Christine recovered first, reaching up to release his hands and rubbing his wrists to make sure they hadn't gone numb.

When she was assured that they were fine, she gingerly shifted to remove the ring and threw it off the bed into the darkness somewhere. Only then, did she crawl back up to him and cradled his upper body in her arms.

"Erik, are you all right?"

\---

"Erik, are you all right?"

His mind had gone blank, only whiteness behind his eyes, and he couldn't process her question.

Christine nuzzled him gently, hands stroking both the ruined and smooth sides of his face. "Darling?"

Words, he needed words. An unintelligible mumble was all he could push past his dry mouth and parched throat. Swallowing, he tried again but Christine was already gone.

Quick as a flash she was back, pressing a bottle of water to his lips, cool and refreshing, quelling the remaining embers from the flame she had ignited within him. She took a long drink herself, and her lips were cold when they came back to press at his temple. The sensation revived him somewhat, and he finally found the motivation to bring his arms around her, cradling her as tenderly as she was holding him. Helpless against the wave of emotion rising within him, he could only murmur "I love you" repeatedly against her skin.

His generous mate stilled him with a finger to his lips, bestowing soft kisses all over his mouth and jaw. Earlier, he felt like she had taken him apart, unexpectedly, explosively, obliterated his very sense of self with the force of her passion and desire. Now, as she slowly she put him back together, he closed his eyes in benediction and let the white-hot memories of falling apart in her arms release him. He was no angel, but for one second he had flown, free from the cruel shackles of gravity. He mourned this slow return to earth and to the heaviness of his marred body, even as her softness curled around and over him was his only comfort.

Was he alright?

He finally answered her earlier question. "I'm still trying to gather up my remaining brain cells, but yes, I'm fine. In fact, I'm feeling absolutely fantastic."

He really was. His brain was often a chaotic hellscape, clashing forces and gale force winds of thought and emotion only barely tamed by iron will and the release valve of music. But now his mind felt blissfully clear.

He had been blindsided, at first, when they’d started and then angry at having the Phantom thrown in his face, particularly after their recent fears. But she had then proceeded to distract him thoroughly with her body and her brilliant, confident, _devious_ mind. He had played along, enjoying it as a one-off experiment until she had put that damned cock ring on him. She probably had no idea how close he had come to stopping the scene, but then – oh god, then – she had straddled his face and obliterated the rest of the world. She was all he could taste. She was all he could smell, and touch, and hear. Behind his closed eyes, she was all he could see. The primal feeling of being surrounded by her, having her thighs pinching around his face, and being presented with such visceral evidence of how much she was enjoying herself. _This_ was how a goddess like her deserved to be worshipped. Erik would have happily spent a lifetime as the priest of her carnal temple.

Even when she had finally lifted off, and oh how he mourned her absence, the calm had stayed with him. He was hers, to do with as she pleased. Production of oxytocin could cause euphoria, he knew, but this felt like he had achieved ultimate peace, his own nirvana. This was Christine working her miracle.

"I'm glad."

As alertness came back to him, so did admiration and incredulity in equal measure. "How...how did you know how to..." How had she known how to play him like a virtuoso tuning an instrument, he wanted to ask but the right words still escaped him.

"I may be naïve in many things, but I _do_ know how to Google, you know." Her words were casual, but something in her eyes...

Erik turned over to see her face better. "My dear, not that I'm complaining, _believe me,_ but can I ask why tonight? Is everything ok?"

She looked away, guilt and shame flooding her face.

"Christine?"

"I guess after all this I can't pretend to be too proud to admit it. I was jealous, so jealous that I felt like I would burst,” she whispered, eyes welling.

 _Jealous? What in the world?_ He tried to pull her in to comfort her better, but she resisted.

"I hated seeing you with her. That woman. Seeing how much better you two would fit, and how...talented...she was." Her voice grew louder now in anger. "She knew exactly how much it bothered me too. Before we left, she purred in my ear that she could have you in her the palm of her hands, begging for mercy. _Twice_." The last word escaped through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, several pieces fell into place for him. Her uncharacteristic shyness, her disappearance as soon as they got home, her eyes flashing with moments of bitterness even as she coaxed him to greater and greater heights, her earlier non-sequiturs. For the second time tonight, blinding white heat flashed behind his eyes, but now born from anger. How dare this conniving person, this callous waif, toy with his Christine and make her doubt her place in the world? How dare anyone claim even in jest what was rightfully hers?

Savagely he pushed all thoughts of her out of his mind for now. He would much rather focus on the precious being in his arms. "Darling, I meant wholeheartedly what I said earlier this evening. I'm yours, now and forever. You fill up my whole world. I don't even see anyone else, ever. And we certainly won't ever see Irene Adler again."

Her lips were still pursed in a sad moue. "What if you need more assistance?"

"The price we paid, you paid, for it was far too high." In the past, Irene had been useful - it was so difficult to find people who were intelligent, well-placed and discreet. Her oft-brazen advances were never in earnest, he knew, and could be brushed off easily while the emptiness he sensed within her made her in some ways a kindred spirit. Now he only pitied her, and he suspected it was her awareness of his sympathy that had drawn out her venom towards Christine. Once again, he'd made a mess of everything and caused her to be hurt.

Saddened now, he stroked her curls. "Do you regret our time together tonight?"

A long pause. "No." He breathed easier. "I wish that it wasn't prompted in any way by someone else, but I loved making you feel good." _His Christine, ever generous and focused on others._

The woman who had spent a considerable time today inflaming him with every word and every action, now blushed fetchingly. Truly, she contained multitudes.

Fondly, he pulled her closer, cradling his head on her chest and letting her wild curls tickle him. The two of them worked together to shift themselves underneath the covers and settled in for some well-earned rest.

As Christine's gentle snores (and oh, how vigorously would she deny them were she actually awake) lulled him to sleep, Erik made a mental note to do some online shopping tomorrow. Surely, given the proper incentive, he could find an appropriate item of furniture to replace her current desk - one big enough for him to fit beneath?

**Author's Note:**

> Irene Adler's character is, of course, borrowed from the Sherlock BBC verse. This PWP owes everything to the wordstring's absolutely brilliant "Paradox Series" on AO3 and specifically a scene from the story "The Dying of The Bees". If you haven't read it, check it out now, because I can't recommend it enough!
> 
> Wrote this mostly as shameless smutfic, but I also firmly believe that Christine would be just as insecure and possessive as Erik tends to be written. Works as a standalone story, but the characters are part of a larger verse that I'm still fleshing out and writing. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
